The Dragon's Price (Transference #1)(73)
“Don’t worry yourself over us, young lady. We are merely talking battle strategy,” Marrkul says. He studies me for a long moment, and I wish I had changed back into my skirt and tunic before coming downstairs. I firm my shoulders and lift my chin. “Do you want for anything, Princess? A glass of warm cinnamon milk, or some buttered bread?”
I take a deep breath and look up into his eyes. “I need nothing. I know that you are discussing battle plans, sir. You can’t fight here!” My voice rings with authority.
Golmarr’s brothers quietly chuckle. Marrkul schools his face to concerned sympathy. “And what would a young northern princess like yourself know about battles fought in Anthar, hey?”
The hundreds of battles flash before my eyes again. “More than you can imagine,” I whisper. “Your strategy is good—very good, if all you are going to be fighting tomorrow is men. But a dragon is coming.”
Marrkul frowns and looks at his sons. Looking back to me, he says, “But the fire dragon is dead.”
“Not him—not the fire dragon. The dragon of the Glass Forest is coming for me.”
“The glass dragon has never left the forest,” Ingvar says, glaring at me like I am an idiot.
For a heartbeat I see the grasslands covered with a thick layer of sheer ice. “Yes, she does, and she will freeze your city and your people if I am here, until she finds me.” I look out a window to the moonlit field behind the house, to the horses. They are the best horses in the world—the fastest, strongest. I could saddle Dewdrop this very moment and gallop away, and the glass dragon threat would be removed from the horse clan. “If I am gone…” The thought of leaving hurts so badly, it robs me of the ability to speak.
A warm hand closes over mine. “Jessen, wake Golmarr,” the king commands. He gently pulls me over to the empty sofa, and I sit. Lifting a wool blanket, he wraps it around me, tucking it behind my shoulders and beneath my bare feet. “Your hands are like ice, Princess.”
A moment later Golmarr, his hair mussed from sleep, wearing only a pair of wrinkled pants, strides into the room stretching his long arms over his head. He sees me sitting on the sofa and sits down beside me, lifting half of my blanket and covering himself so my arm is against his bare chest. Even through the fabric of my nightgown I can feel his warm skin, and I can’t help but wonder what his father thinks of his son walking around in front of me with no shirt. Golmarr fumbles under the blanket until he finds my hand and twines his fingers with mine and then he looks at me. “Jessen says you’re raving about dragons attacking us tomorrow and trying to tell them how to fight their battle?” he asks, a curious grin spreading over his sleepy face.
I nod. “The glass dragon is coming for me.” I feel Golmarr’s heart speed up beneath my shoulder, and his hand turns as cold as mine as the grin is replaced with a frown. “If I run tonight—”
“No,” Golmarr blurts. He looks to his brothers and father.
“No,” King Marrkul echoes. His brothers nod in agreement.
“But—”
Marrkul leans forward and cuts me off. “You are my son’s betrothed, Princess Sorrowlynn. That makes you part of our clan. We will fight this dragon with you, so you don’t have to run and fight it alone.”
My battle with the mercenary in the forest comes to mind, when he told me he would capture me and ask my family for ransom, and the gut-wrenching realization that I didn’t know if my own mother would pay to get me back. I look into King Marrkul’s sincere eyes and a lump rises in my throat. “I…,” I whisper, and then sniffle as tears fill my eyes. Golmarr drops my hand and wraps his arms around my shoulders, hugging me tightly to him so my cheek is pressed to his neck.
“You belong here with us, Sorrowlynn,” he whispers against my hair.
“That’s settled, then. You will stay,” Marrkul says. He turns to his sons. “Ingvar? Olenn? Jessen? Should we redo our battle strategy to incorporate the threat of a possible dragon attack?”
“Yes,” I say, sitting forward and clenching my skirt in my fists. They all turn their eyes to me, and Ingvar and Jessen hide their smiles behind their hands. It takes every bit of self-control I possess not to glare at them.
“What would you suggest?” King Marrkul asks, and I know he is merely humoring me—a weak northern princess.
I clear my throat. “There is a hill about halfway between your city and the forest, right at the edge of your farmland—”
“Crow Hill,” Golmarr says.
“Hide the foot soldiers at the base of Crow Hill, and hide the archers on top. The hill is big enough for a large mounted army to wait behind it without the mercenaries spotting them. If you have your archers attack first, you will drastically cut the mercenaries’ numbers before any of your people risk their lives. When the enemy engages in battle with your foot soldiers, bring out the cavalry from behind the hill and surround them.” Now four pairs of shocked dark eyes are staring at me. I uncurl my fists and smooth the wrinkles from my skirt.
“What about the glass dragon?” Jessen asks. “It will freeze our soldiers hiding in the grass.”
“Not if they are covered by cloaks. The beauty of the grasslands is you can see for miles in every direction, especially on a hilltop,” I say. “Assign several people to watch the sky, and we will see the beast coming long before it can breathe its ice on us. If we lure it to the hill, the people here in Kreeose will be safe. Your crops and women and children will be spared.”